


My Brother's Keeper

by prosodiical



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Biblical References, M/M, Sibling Incest, post-chaos ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 10:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13029351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosodiical/pseuds/prosodiical
Summary: The King of Bel returns home, just for a night.





	My Brother's Keeper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antheeia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheeia/gifts).



"You've been slacking, Naoya."

Naoya has. He stops his instinctive reach for his COMP as the voice registers, but doesn't bother trying to hide the way he scans Kazuya - Abel - for injuries; the dark circles under his eyes have grown, as has the inhuman glint to his eyes. But he smiles at Naoya the same way: endearingly fond, endlessly curious. "There's been little cause for personal demon summoning in the last few weeks. It's working."

"Just as you planned," Abel says, and Naoya gives him a brief smile.

"The angels have been retreating," he says. "Your offensive has shifted the battle to their turf. Tea?"

Abel inclines his head. "Please."

There's a moment, watching him, when Naoya wonders just how much a toll the power of Bel has taken on him. There's a demonic stillness to his shape, and sometimes when he moves it's as though he's forgotten how. But Abel exhales and Naoya blinks and it's gone, just the awkward form of a teenager folding his legs under Naoya's kotatsu, studying his fingernails before he tilts his head and watches Naoya, too.

Naoya sets the water to boil and folds his arms, almost self-consciously, into his sleeves. "Your friends have been asking after you. You've done well to win their loyalty."

"And have you missed me too, Naoya?" Abel asks, and only remembers to smile a second late. He's faintly luminous in the streetlamps through Naoya's window, the low fluorescent glow of his kitchen, and Naoya wonders just how much power he's gained from death.

The kettle starts to hum. Naoya brings the pot to the table, sits down on the cushion beside Abel's, and doesn't freeze when Abel's palm lands on his elbow. His touch sends a shock of electricity up Naoya's nerves, even with the barrier of cloth, and his expectant gaze weighs heavy. 

"Yes," Naoya says, "I've missed you as well."

His blood is not on Naoya's hands in this life, but when he leans over the corner of the kotatsu and kisses Naoya, his mouth tastes of it: copper and rust, lingering on Naoya's tongue. "Easy, little brother," Naoya murmurs, and Abel's mouth curves into a faint smile as he pulls back.

"We're cousins," Abel says, "don't you remember?"

"Don't you?"

When Abel looks at him, it feels like he can see the curse writ into his soul, the twisted mess that God has made of him. Naoya pours a cup of tea for them both, and Abel takes his with both hands, fingers curved around ceramic, gaze turning beyond Naoya to the world outside. "How are my friends?"

"Living, still," Naoya says. "The Shomonkai have been spreading Your word. Atsuro asks after you more frequently than Yuzu. He's been working tirelessly to discover the secrets of the Demon Summoning Program."

"He won't need it."

"No," Naoya says, "he won't. Not with the favor of the King of Bel."

"Not only that," Abel says. "Naoya. What do you expect to happen when I succeed? When my demons break through Heaven's last faltering lines and I stand in front of Him, who cursed you to walk this Earth for eternity? The angels have much to say about you."

"None of it good," Naoya says, and smiles. "Then the power of God will be in your hands, little brother. That is my revenge; you should do with it what you wish."

"What I wish," Abel repeats. His eyes are luminous, his skin cold when he takes Naoya's hand, the blood in his veins visible through his pale skin. "This is what you've lead me to."

"This is what you chose."

"And after?"

The first time Abel had kissed him had been at the end of the cycle, the culmination of his plans in seven days. Abel had looked across the world with the eyes of Bel, commanded demons with a word and still said to Naoya, with the thoughtlessness of a child, "It's done."

"No," Naoya said, and saw only Kazuya in the moment he pressed his palms to Naoya's chest and his mouth to Naoya's own. He kissed greedy and careless, hands fisted in Naoya's kimono and body flush against Naoya's own, and Naoya bit at his lip and didn't quite draw blood. "Patience," Naoya murmured, as Kazuya hissed a breath through his teeth; Naoya could feel the restless wanting heat of him, and knew it wasn't the right time. "It's only just begun."

"Your war against Heaven."

"My war against God," Naoya reminded him. "Now yours, from the blood that ties us. The power you've killed to obtain."

"And then?" he asked, and Naoya had no answer for him then. 

And he has no answer for him now, when Abel sets his half-empty teacup carefully on the table and clambers forward with the ill-grace of a teenager, long limbs and bright eyes and the song of angels thrumming under his skin. He kisses Naoya and his mouth is cold and tastes of blood and stardust and Naoya wants to drink it in, the power he keeps so innocuously in his veins. He's more assured, now, as though his shoulders have firmed to support the weight of his command, and Naoya lets him pull him closer as he sets his hands on Abel's hips, as Abel licks at his teeth and shivers at Naoya's hand on his thigh. "I've missed you," Abel says, eyes bright, and Naoya is reminded of the first time he'd ever killed him, his eyes just as bright as Naoya slid a knife between his ribs, the look of surprise on his face that never faded. Abel's hands now are around Naoya's neck, his thumbs in the hollow of his throat, and Naoya tilts his head and lets Abel see his smile.

"I'll be waiting for you," Naoya says. "Until the end."

Abel doesn't tighten his grip on Naoya's throat, though he could: suffocating the air out of his lungs, until Naoya's throat choked for air and his skin went blue. "And this world will belong to everyone," he says, and leans forward, until their foreheads touch and his breath fans across Naoya's cheek. His eyes are shadowed in the light, the whole of him ethereal, inhuman. "No longer under the watch of a vengeful, uncaring God."

"But you," Naoya murmurs, and can feel Abel's smile against his mouth as he kisses him again, the feverish power of him heating Naoya's blood as he shifts forward and presses close.

"But me," Abel says, and Naoya bares his throat to him, his flesh and blood; surrenders to the King he made, to the God he's empowered. 

Abel kisses him like he's in love.


End file.
